


Growing

by meils121



Series: Leverage Bingo [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: Parker gets the first plant because that’s what she’s supposed to do.  At least, she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.  Remembering normal people rules and conventions is hard.  But the lady at the store calls this plant a spider plant, and Parker likes spiders.  So she puts the plant on a shelf in the offices and names it Howard - even if Eliot grumbles that you don’t name plants, Parker - and remembers to water it.





	Growing

**Author's Note:**

> My first entry for Leverage Bingo - filling the square 'plant mom/dad'

            Parker gets the first plant because that’s what she’s supposed to do.  At least, she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.  Remembering normal people rules and conventions is hard.  But the lady at the store calls this plant a spider plant, and Parker likes spiders.  So she puts the plant on a shelf in the offices and names it Howard - even if Eliot grumbles that _you don’t name plants, Parker_ \- and remembers to water it.  

            Howard is a good plant.  Sometimes, when Parker’s alone, she talks to him.  Tells him about the weird things people do and how grifting is hard and tasing people is much easier.  On sunny afternoons when the offices are empty, she perches Howard on the windowsill and lays on the ground beneath him and tells him stories about the diamonds and paintings and statues and everything else she’s ever stolen.  He’s a good listener.  Parker likes that about plants.

            Plants, Parker decides, are easier to talk to than people.  People have expectations.  Howard just needs water every once in a while and some sunlight and he’s happy.  

            Howard gets blown up when the offices do, and Parker tries not to be overly sad about it.  But she is.  Because he was like a friend, in a way, if friends never said anything and just let you ramble on about things because they seemed important to you.  

            Eliot tells her that it was just a plant, but when he pats her shoulder his hand stays put for a moment.  Parker’s getting good enough with reading Eliot signals that she’s pretty sure he’s saying he’s sorry Howard got blown up.  That’s nice, Parker thinks.

            Sophie hands her a box one day.  “Since I sorta blew up your last plant.”  She says.  Inside is another spider plant, this one a little wilted and in need of some love.  Parker may not be good at that when it comes to people, but she knows what to do with plants.  So she finds a sunny ledge and gets a little green watering can and nurses Monty back to health.  She catches Sophie watching her sometimes with a soft look in her eyes, like she’s proud of Parker.  But that doesn’t make any sense, so Parker ignores it and tells Monty the tales of her illegal escapades, starting at the beginning.  

            Hardison gives her the next plant.  It’s a venus flytrap and it actually does something, much to Parker’s delight.  She names it Eliza and ignores Eliot’s eye roll at the name.  Eliza is fascinating.  Parker reads up on how to take care of venus flytraps and is careful to make sure Eliza gets everything she needs.  Eliza’s a little grumpier than Monty or Howard, but that’s okay.  She’s funny, Parker thinks.  She likes watching the little mouth snap shut.  

            Eliza and Monty move to Portland with Parker.  She likes Portland.  Hardison and Sophie complain about the rain, but rain is good for plants.  That’s a good thing.  Except sometimes Eliza gets grumpy that she doesn’t get as much sun, so Hardison helps her set up one of those sun lamps in her apartment.  

            Parker’s in the kitchen of the brew pub one afternoon, perched on a stool as she watches Eliot test new recipes.  For the first time, she notices he has a little indoor garden of his own.  “What’s that?”  She asks.

            Eliot follows her pointed finger.  “My herb garden.”  He says.  Parker frowns.  “They make food taste better.”  He says, and Parker’s still trying to understand food but she thinks she gets it.  It’s like how sugar makes her Fruit Loops taste amazing.  

            “What are their names?”  

            Eliot grumbles a little.  “They don’t have names.”  He says.  He pinches a leaf off one of the plants.  “Here, smell this.  It’s basil.”  

            Parker does as she’s told.  “Smells good.”  She decides.  “Monty and Eliza don’t smell of anything.”

            “Some plants do, some don’t.”  Eliot says, and Parker forgets sometimes he’s still a country kid at heart.  “Come to the farmer’s market with me tomorrow and I’ll get you some that smell good.”

            It’s overcast the next day, a heavy feeling in the air when Eliot drives Parker to the farmer’s market in his pickup.  Eliot hands her a couple of reusable bags - because he’s nothing if not earth-friendly - and leads her through the crowd of people.  

            Parker is bored by most of the stops Eliot makes.  The bags are soon loaded up with fresh vegetables and organic soap and homemade dog treats for the pups that come by the brew pub.  Parker’s more than a little interested in the booth with fresh baked goods, so they make a little detour so she can grab a chocolate-filled croissant.  

            The last booth at the market is covered with plants.  Parker leans closer, taking in a deep breath.  “This doesn’t smell like basil.”  She says.

            “That’s because it’s cilantro.”  Eliot says.  “Smell a few and see what you like”

            They leave twenty minutes later, Parker holding her new lavender and rosemary plants.  She likes the almost-spikiness of both plants, and the little purple buds on the lavender.  She names them Josh and Cora and sets them on the windowsill next to her other plants.  

            Her collection grows from there.  Bartholomew is a lamb’s ear plant, velvety soft to the touch.  Armstrong is a snake plant.  Mira is money tree, larger than most of the plants Parker has collected but much needed just for its name.  

            Hardison comes over one night and his eyes widen in surprise when he takes in the collection Parker has amassed.  Plants cover her windowsills and a couple perch on the coffee table.  

            “Mama, you’ve got a problem.”  He says.

            “No.”  Parker corrects him.  “I have friends.”  

            And she does.  Her apartment never feels empty, even when it’s just her hanging around.  She’s never liked bouquets of flowers like Sophie does, because flowers die so quickly.  Her plants sometimes get a little wilted, but she knows how to nurse them back to health.  She likes that she can take care of them.  It makes her feel like maybe she can take care of other people too.

            It’s the middle of the week when Nate sits down next to Parker in the back of the brew pub and slides a box over to her.  It’s been a tough couple of days, a job gone mostly wrong and only just salvaged because Parker pulled some stunts that are a little too dangerous even for her liking.

            “It’s an aloe plant.”  He says.  “People use it when they get burns or small cuts to help them heal.”  

            Parker looks at him funny.  “Thanks.”  She says.  “Why?”

            Nate stares at the plant for a moment.  “It reminded me of you.”  He says, and it’s an explanation and an apology all in one.  “You take care of us more than you think you do.”

            Parker doesn’t really know what to say to that.  She doesn’t really think of herself as the caretaker - that’s Eliot or Sophie, she thinks.  But it’s still nice to hear Nate say that about her.  

            She names the plant Ellie.  She rearranges the plants to make room for her and lays on the floor in the center of the living room.  She stares up at the ceiling, tendrils of green creeping into her vision, and starts the story of the time she accidentally stole Queen Elizabeth’s tiara.

            It’s nice having plant friends, she thinks.

           

 


End file.
